


Now That's A Paddlin'

by keep_it_fresh



Category: Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Budding Love, Enemies to Friends, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-08 08:08:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6846436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keep_it_fresh/pseuds/keep_it_fresh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Non-canon. An innocent mistake, a stupid reaction, and a Geri are the catalysts for an unlikely  romance to blossom between players from opposite ends of La Liga's fiercest rivals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Slap

 

**Part One: The Slap**

 

 

 

Sergio took a second longer than usual to catch his breath. He was bent over and breathing deeply as he tried to dispel the dizziness that always accompanied his muscle fatigue. It was the price for the rushed challenge. He only managed to send the ball behind goal for a corner, but his muscles were straining – burnt and tense. But there was only a minute of game time and whatever he pulled he could deal with when the game was done.

 

Suddenly he felt Iker’s heavy gloves on his shoulders. He knew Iker noticed. If Iker was the coach he’d likely tell him to come off – and he definitely wasn’t doing that. So, Sergio forced himself upright and pulled away.

 

“Don’t push yourself, Nene,” Iker cautioned behind his gloves, loud enough for only him to hear.

 

Sergio knew what he really meant was _‘You shouldn’t have played at all.’_ He started the game with a bum shoulder and now he had the joy of adding ‘searing thigh pain’. But it was _El Clásico,_ like hell he was going to sit out when he could play, even fractionally.

 

“I’m fine,” he lied. He patted Iker’s shoulders to reassure him as everyone got ready for the corner kick.

 

Iker didn’t believe him. Instead he called Pepe back and had a few brief words Sergio couldn’t hear as he tried to quell the burning in his thighs. _Just one minute and whatever hellish extra-time came with it and then this game would be over_ , he reassured himself.

 

Barcelona took the corner, Alves curling the ball, deathly fast in a low arch towards Geri. But Pepe read it easily and headed it away. Sergio watched Kroos quickly pass it up to Modric who was already breaking away at halfway line – Sergio expected no less neither team wanted a draw. Real fought for an away win, and Barcelona for a home victory.

 

He made to move up the pitch but Iker stopped him as Pepe, Danilo and Marcelo went on without him.

 

“You go up, you won’t be able to make it back down if they break away,” he warned.

 

“If I stay this close to you I’m playing them on-side. _Míster_ will kill me, hell I’ll kill me!”

 

“I’ll take responsibility. Stay deep,” he said in a voice that brooked no argument. His eyebrows lowered threateningly.

 

Sergio threw his hands up in frustration, but still listened for the most part. He only jogged up a few yards outside their penalty area while Danilo, Marcelo and Pepe played higher up. Sergio kept his eyes on Messi and Suarez who floated around the half-way line since they tended to play their runs on his side and Neymar was deeper in his own team’s half.

 

It was only seconds into Real’s counter-attack and two failed attempts at goal that Neymar nicked the ball back and aimed a dangerous ball in for Suarez.

 

Within in blink of an eye the Messi and Suarez were galvanized. Sergio was already tracking their number 10, as the man out-manoeuvered Marcelo, and Danilo rushed helped to shut down Suarez with Pepe.

 

But it was still ‘injured’ Sergio and Messi.

 

Sergio expected Suarez to pass the ball to the striker, and Sergio again knew he was lucky when the man’s first touch was just a fraction too hard. It gave him the small moment of space he needed to make the challenge – but it also meant throwing his whole body behind it.

 

And it was hard.

 

Sergio felt his muscles scream as he stretched his injured leg to knock the ball out for a throw-in – but it was clean.

 

Messi went down a second later. His momentum was too fast for him to stop from colliding into Sergio and he ended up tangled in his limbs.

 

Sergio breathed in the smell of damp grass as tried to ‘will’ himself to get back up. _Just bend and push up_ , he encouraged. But his legs refused to cooperate. The thought of movement made the muscles spasm and tighten worse than before. He kind of expected he’d need medical treatment after the challenge, so he was content to wait for the medic to notice and rush on to the pitch.

 

What he didn’t expect was Lio to scrape his studs right into his injured thigh as the man tried to get up.

 

The pain was instantaneous – sharp and slicing. It jack-knifed his body and choked his ability to scream out. So he pounded his fist against the grass instead.

 

When he finally found his voice, it was growl aimed directly at Barça’s number 10. “What the fuck, man?!”

 

Messi’s eyes widened. He looked ready to say _something._ Sergio stopped any excuse he had on lips when he grabbed the offending leg. He didn’t know _what_ he was doing until he did it.

 

Three hard slaps on Messi’s ass.

 

Camp Nou could have been a grave yard for how quiet it was. The only sound he could hear was his harsh breathing.

 

Messi looked at him red-faced and confused as his hands gripped chunks of grass.

 

“Ow.”

 

The quiet utterance did the trick to re-animate the stadium as the thunderous shouts and curses came raining down on him. The ref’s whistle came next and Sergio didn’t have to look to know a red card was in his hand.

 

Iker, thankfully, got to him first before the Barcelona players.

 

“Sergio let go of his leg.”

 

He didn’t realize he was still holding it. “I was…” he trailed off.

 

“I know, just let go.” Iker helped loosen his grip and Messi pulled his leg back. The man scooted back a few feet from him too, just to play it safe Sergio assumed.

 

The other _blaugranas_ were close behind with Suarez leading the charge. He could hear Geri’s mouth from the final third of Barça’s half. Suarez helped Lio up, and when Ney and Dani came they were all looking over at Sergio who still had yet to form a coherent sentence.

 

The ref was still angrily gesticulating for him to get off the pitch. It took both Marcelo and Iker to help him off, he was too stunned.

 

“Sergio? You okay man?” asked Marcelo.

 

“I…Did I spank Messi?” even the words sounded strange coming from his mouth as he looked at his hands.

 

Neither answered, just looked between themselves secretly communicating a look he couldn’t decipher.

 

“Don’t worry about that now, just go before the stands empty out trying to get to you,” Iker said.

 

He nodded and let them pass him off to the medics and headed into the tunnels.

 

 

**88888888**

 

 

Lio was still stunned as he watched Ramos disappear into the tunnels via the big screen.

 

He remembered the tackle. He put a bit too much on his touch and Ramos pounced hard and took them both out. Usually the defender would leave Lio to scrape himself off the pitch. But he was slow to move, (a stall tactic he assumed at the time), so he wiggled out from under the player, since Barça still had a chance to score with the toss-in. But his leg, his famed left foot was stuck and when he dislodged it he caught Ramos, and then…and then…

 

The medical team didn’t know where to check after making sure his leg was fine. He would have laughed at their ‘put out’ faces as they looked between his leg and ass, if it wasn’t _his_ leg and ass they were worried over. It wasn’t his leg after all that was ‘injured’ and he wasn’t going to let them examine his butt for handprints on the pitch – not with the fans and cameras shooting their every move. But they gave up soon enough, most likely coming to the same realization he did.

 

“Are you, are you sure you’re okay?” Neymar asked as the medics packed up and trudged off the field.

 

“I’m fine,” he muttered. “Let’s just finish the game.”

 

Luis clapped his back and they fell back into position.

 

The commotion added another two minutes to clock but just like the entire game neither team was able to finish and left the pitch with a draw. He made his way to the tunnels as quickly as possible. He didn’t want to chance hearing any snide remarks from the _blancos_ or risk lingering too long and end up talking to an errant journalist.

 

When he was finally in the safety of the locker room his teammates converged on him. It started off warmly with threats to pummel both Ramos and the team in the second leg.

 

“I promise I’m fine,” Lio laughed as he stripped down.  “Let Ramos keep his teeth.”

 

He turned to get his soap, rag and towel from his locker and headed to the showers.

 

Lio stood under the shower head for a few minutes as he tried to wind down. But little things kept pulling him out, from players talking on the other side of the showers to the worrying knot forming in stomach, no matter how he tried to let the steady fall of water drown it all out. He didn’t open his eyes until he heard Geri and Dani take up the shower heads on either side of him.

 

He sighed. Nothing good came from having either one of them taking a sudden interest in you. They idly chatted over him and engaged him enough that it distracted him from the third conspirator, until he felt the hands grope his ass.

 

He made a noise that couldn’t be called anything but a squeal and the showers reverberated with laughter.

 

“The fuck, _cabron_!” he cursed and turned to see a red-faced Neymar in briefs and shower sandals. “ _Ney_? What’re you doing?”

 

“Um…Geri and Dani…” he mumbled.

 

He wasn’t even looking at Lio but at the space where Lio’s ass was, which was now occupied by his dick…

 

Lio’s face lit up as bright as Ney’s now. “Ney!” Lio fought off the urge to put his hands over himself, because it’d just lead to more razing. “What. Are. You. Doing?” Lio repeated.

 

“Well? How was it,” Geri interjected.

 

“Uh…” Ney mumbled, as he scratched his chin, but his eyes were still trained on Lio’s dick.

 

Dani sighed and slapped Neymar in the head. “Ney, focus – upwards,” he added helpfully.

 

Neymar nodded and his eyes lit with mirth when they landed on Lio. “It feels the same,” he said around a smile. “Maybe I should try again.” He lifted his hands and made squeezing motions in the air. “Turn.”

 

Lio pressed himself up against the ice cold shower tiles. “No! Get out!”

 

“The _Míster_ just wants us to make sure,” Geri said in a consolatory tone.

 

“ _Míster_?” Lio shook his head. “I doubt Lucho’d want whatever the hell it is you idiots are doing.” He turned off the tap grabbed his towel off the rack and headed back out.

 

“Aw don’t be mad! You’re making Ney sad!” chastised Geri.

 

He ignored them. Well Geri and Dani for the most part.

 

Neymar, well it was impossible to stay mad at him – for one he wouldn’t let you. He’d hound you with hugs, apologies and flood your inbox with emoji-laced texts until you caved. And Lio wasn’t disappointed when Ney came out minutes later and apologized with a hug and a kiss that he easily accepted.

 

He gave Dani and Geri the finger when they tried to do the same.

 

He did his best to put their antics out his head and pulled his clothes out his locker and got dressed. But all it did was remind him of the reason behind it: Ramos spanked—no, no hit him, _hit him,_ on the pitch.  God it was embarrassing enough on its own but he could already see the media blitz it was going to cause, and not just in Barcelona and Madrid, it was sure to make it to the international press.

 

He pulled on his leather jacket and headed out the locker room, with a quick good-bye. He hoped the ride home would blunt out the effects of the end of the game. He rounded the corner and paused briefly seeing Xavi and Iker talking in the common lobby. Lio figured their quiet chat was about the incident on pitch., so Lio just hoped to pass by unnoticed.

 

“Hey, Lio!” called Xavi.

 

Lio sighed heavily as Xavi crushed his hopes.

 

He reluctantly headed over not looking forward to the conversation. Iker’s piercing gaze was not helping to settle his nerves, nor was the man’s attempt at a friendly smile. It was eerily similar to Xavi’s tight and stressed smile when he was trying to hold it together, ( _it_ usually being Geri).

 

“Lionel,” he said, his hand already extended.

 

Lio shook it, quickly. “Iker,” he said back and smiled hoping it’d ease some of the tension he felt.

 

“I’m sure you know why I’m here.”

 

Lio nodded.

 

“Sergio, is…” He paused, squeezing the bridge of his nose in frustration, even though the tight smile on his face remained unchanged. “I don’t know what to say for his actions sometimes. But I can assure you he’s very sorry and if he could he’d apologize himself.”

 

Lio nodded stiffly. Although he doubted it to be true. Ramos didn’t _seem_ like the type of guy you could stop from doing something. Lio had a sore ass to prove it, he thought grumpily.

 

“Right,” he said instead. “I understand. Thank you, uh, both of you.”

 

Iker pulled him in for a perfunctory hug and kiss and patted his back. Lio was about pull back when Iker’s voice stopped him.

 

“Are you okay?” he whispered. “Xavi won’t tell me anything.”

 

Lio stuttered and tried to look at him but only got a better view of his neck. “Um, yeah.”

 

He felt Iker nod and then the man pulled away. “Okay, take care.”

 

Xavi patted him on the back too. “See you at practice Lio.”

 

Lio headed out in a daze – he felt okay, but now he wasn’t too sure. He was grateful for the apology. Honestly, Lio didn’t want to see Ramos either right now, but it felt…he knew they were ‘enemies’ on the pitch. Their countless meetings in El Clasico were always intense because the guy ran hot and Lio wasn’t afraid to push him. But he always believed they shared a modicum of respect between them. But it seemed it wasn’t enough to warrant a face-to-face apology. And Lio didn’t know why _that_ upset him as much as it did.

 

“Argh,” he groused. Lio shook his head and slapped his cheeks to wake himself up. Maybe he got slapped in the head instead. What other excuse was there for his flurry of thoughts. _I don’t care about this, I’m glad it’s over,_ he drilled into his head.

 

When he reached the Luis’ car in the parking lot he leaned against the hood, a frown marring his face, and waited for the man to hurry up and drive him home. Because no matter how he willed it the unease refused to go away.

 

 

**88888888**

 

 

The media storm that ensued was predictable. Sergio’s not surprised by the varied stances on the local levels. Madrid defended him, Barca vilified him, and the international press – well they were all _culés_ anyway. But no matter what the peanut gallery had to say he was already hit with a fine and three-match ban by the league. The upside was that he could now rest his shoulders, groin and whatever hell else he pulled could heal.

 

Surprisingly, the worst of the backlash he got actually came from Piqué’s social media. The man decided to launch a one-man mission to rake Sergio’s character over the coals.

 

Sergio choked on his water when he read the tweet the first time.

_@Piqué 3geri: @Ser4Ram always said he was fascinated by Lio… I always assumed he meant his skills’_

 

He remembered saying something like that years ago. It was during a rare amicable moment they shared on the national team. He had been wasted and sappy on their Euro win and he’d shared that tidbit. Geri swore he didn’t remember anything the next day, and Sergio knew he was lying for his sake. It made him see Geri as the considerate kind of guy he’d like as a friend – if he wasn’t _blaugrana_.

 

And now their _one_ pure memory was burned to ashes – the bastard.

 

But there were more, and Sergio couldn’t stop himself from scrolling down to see the extent of Geri’s character assassination of him.

_@piqué3geri: ‘I think @Ser4Ram was trying to count the number of goals we scored at the last El Clásico. It was five @Ser4Ram, not three!’_

_@piqué3geri: ‘I thought my hands were the largest in the league – unfortunately the handprints @Ser4Ram left on Lio proved me wrong.’_

_@piqué3geri: ‘@Ser4Ram My tackles may not always be clean, but at least I don’t ‘Ramos’ the strikers.’_

“Goddamit, Geri,” Sergio breathed out harshly. He gripped his phone tightly reading each new tweet and fighting the urge to smash the screen. It wouldn’t erase the tweets. But he’d have to shelve out another grand to replace the damn phone. 

 

Sergio prayed his name didn’t become synonymous with ‘spanking’ players on the pitch.  And prayed some more for patience, but stopped when it became a rambling curse on the ‘ _House of Piqué_ ’.

 

Eventually, Sergio reasoned, Geri would have to let this go.

 

Sergio, was still waiting for ‘eventually’ as days turned into weeks. He found it was easier to stay off social media as Piqué took his stupidity to new levels.

 

He was streaming a new flamenco album on his phone when it went nuts with notifications. There was a deluge of messages from family, friends and teammates. He scrolled through them, laughed at some of them – but most of them didn’t make sense. It wasn’t until he got to Iker’s that he felt his stomach churn.

 

_‘Stay off the internet, Sergio!’_

Which meant he had to look. He quickly hopped on to Geri’s twitter page and didn’t have to scroll long.

 

Piqué posted a photo-shopped atrocity of his profile picture from Real Madrid’s website: he was draped in black leather from the jacket with tacky fringes to the biker hat with metal buckles and for some inane reason an eyepatch. But what really took the cake was the large wooden paddle – so large it actually looked like a pizza peel – poking out from behind his back.

 

His first thought was, _who the hell showed Piqué how to photo-shop? Anything?_

 

His second, _that fucking asshole._

 

He had to scroll further down for the tweet that led up to it:

 

_@piqué3geri: ‘For someone who says they were blinded with pain, he moved pretty quickly to get to our precious D10S – maybe it has healing powers?’_

 

From there it launched into a series of replies Piqué couldn’t resist retweeting and embellishing that dragged Sergio from an ass-groper to a sexual predator with a daddy kink in the span of several tweets. All culminating into his dominatrix photo op.

 

His phone rang out with an incoming call. He knew who it was and just answered.

 

“I’m going to kill him.”

 

“Just be calm, Nene. You know how Geri is, he’s just looking for a reaction.”

 

“I know…I know,” Sergio muttered. 

 

“Okay so don’t do anything. You’ve managed so far so don’t do anything rash now.”

 

But Sergio wasn’t listening, he was _thinking_ – something that would have frightened Iker, because it meant he was _planning_. And Sergio’s plans were never for good reasons – just like the one that struck him now. He knew what would get a reaction – that big oaf would have to back off. It’d take an hour, but honestly Sergio thought, if Geri could photo-shop he could too.

 

“I won’t do anything rash,” he agreed. _No dear Iker, it will be a thoroughly thought out counter-attack_ , he amended mentally.

 

Iker sighed. “Okay. I’ll talk to Xavi so don’t worry about it. We have training tomorrow. Focus on that.”

 

Sergio rolled his eyes. “Okay honey. I’ll go to bed after this show’s done,” he said.

 

“Fuck off, and goodnight. Kisses.”

 

“Kisses.” He made them loud and wetter than necessary and laughed when Iker huffed and hung up the phone.

 

Sergio didn’t go to bed for another four hours. He spent the better part of the night with his reading glasses perched on his nose scouring search engines for photos of Geri and his _precioso_ Lio. He fashioned a caption loaded it up to his phone and saved the draft and went to bed with a smile on his face.

 

The first thing Sergio did when he hopped out of bed was hit send and watched as the football world descended into the second wave of chaos.

 

 

**88888888**

 

 

Lio woke up late for training – well ‘late’ at least according to Luis’ standards. He could hear his muted voice as he chatted up his housekeeper downstairs. _She_ knew Luis’ schedule better than Lio and like clockwork, after Lio deigned to get of bed, shower and dress, his breakfast was waiting for him. Lio frowned at the simple meal: protein shake and banana. Sometimes he seriously wondered if it was worth it to stay in the top league if couldn’t have bread and dulce leche everyday – for all his meals.

 

But then Luis would break his fatalistic thoughts by ruffling his bedhead and they’d fall into their morning routine: Lio gulfing down the shake and fruit and futilely fighting off Luis’ touches. Then they’d head out to the car where Luis has a steaming thermos of mate waiting, (Lio always waited for him to offer), and he’d sip the drink languidly as they pulled off.

 

Everything was routine, the chat, the drive, even when Lio spilt some mate on Luis’ jeans (Lio told him to put a towel on his lap next time, but Luis never listened). It was completely normal, until he reached the locker room at the training center.

 

First thing he noticed was Geri and Neymar were not late. The second thing was that everyone was crowded around the two and hovering over Geri’s phone as they listen to talk radio. He and Luis initially ignored the melee in favor of their own conversation, but their entrance drew all the attention and instantly a cacophony of shouts and jeers surrounded him. Lio couldn’t make out the nonsense they were shouting at him.

 

“What? What is it?” he said laughing as he watched adult men trip over themselves like children with a secret they couldn’t wait to spill.

 

“You have to see this!” Neymar pulled him towards the benches they were crowded around when they came in. “It’s all Geri’s fault too!” he pointed out as he went through his phone to show Lio whatever ‘he needed see’.

 

“Hey, don’t blame me!” cried Geri.

 

Geri took up a seat between Jordi and Neymar and Lio looked over at him silently asking _‘What’s this about?’_ with his eyes.

 

All the man did was smile and shrug.

 

“You have to see yourself,” he said instead. “Come sit.”

 

He tried to pull Lio to sit on knee, which he resisted, but it only incited the team to shout insults at the defender: _Cabron! Filho de puta! You’ve done enough!_ So Geri just made room by pushing Jordi off the bench and pulling Lio down into the space he occupied.

 

“What? What did you do Geri?” said hoarsely, a sense of foreboding creeping in at Geri’s reluctance to divulge any information.

 

Geri was smiling, but Lio could see the tension on his face as he hesitated. “…I didn’t do anything. But Ramos finally responded.”

 

Neymar found what he was looking for and showed Lio, what turned out to be a post, and it took a moment to sink in. He had to read it twice.

 

“ _All @piqué3geri does is talk about Lio’s ass on the international break. He’s just jealous that I handled Messi’s ass better and longer than he ever could_ ,” Lio read out loud. “ _It’s obvious that Geri can’t give Lio what he needs_ ”

 

“Oh…” was the only response Lio had when it registered in his head. He heard the word it echoed by Luis who stood over him. He was at as much at a loss for words as Lio.

 

Lio wasn’t blind to the on-going feud between the defenders, but for the most part he wasn’t ‘explicitly’ mentioned - especially like that. But obviously that was no longer the case as Lio scanned the photo under the caption.

 

It was a collage of photos of him and Geri, and in each one Geri was grabbing his ass, (a phase Geri never really broke out of), and Lio was batting his hand away or bodily pushing him away.

 

“How did he?” he questioned shaking his head. This couldn’t be real. Lio scanned every picture. There were at least a hundred of them that literally spanned their career entire; even at La Masia! Lio could feel the anxiety grow in his chest as his eyes jumped from one incriminating photo to the next in an erratic pattern.

 

“That last one isn’t even real! I’m in the _albiceleste_ colors! You weren’t there,” he protested.

 

“Lio calm down.” Xavi was suddenly in front of him. He pulled the phone from his tight grip.

 

Lio watched the phone as it was passed back to Neymar and he tucked it into his pants. Lio felt his shoulders and back tense in response.

 

“I am calm,” he said tightly.

 

“Okay… but your eyes are telling a completely different story,” said Dani.

 

“Dani, not helping,” chided Xavi.  “Um, how about you, Luis and Ney head into one of the exam rooms.”

 

“Sure,” Neymar jumped in. When Lio looked at him, Neymar’s eyes were wide with worry as he looked between him and Luis. “Luis?”

 

“Yeah, let’s go Lio.”

 

Luis led them out the locker room and down the hall to one of the empty exam rooms. He sat on the exam table, Neymar and Luis flanking either side of him. The parchment paper crunching noisily under them was the only sound in the room.

 

Now that they were alone, Lio let himself ease back into the soothing motions Ney’s hands made on his back. Luis’ hand fell heavy on his neck in a soothing way before ruffling up his hair. Leo chuckled softly and moved away from the touch.

 

“Come on,” he complained.

 

But it was effective. He felt himself calming down.

 

“What did Geri _do?_ …Ney?” he asked after the moment passed.

 

Ney bit his lips, and Lio couldn’t tell if it was from nervousness or to hide a smile. “Uh… he made Ramos _really_ mad.”

 

Lio’s eyes narrowed as Ney tried to restrain his shaking.

 

The boy finally broke into laughter a second later. “I’m sorry Lio!” he cried out. “I’m sorry what Ramos did was terrible, but you have to see what _Geri_ did.”

 

Lio and Luis waited for Ney to pull up the post. When they finally got a look, he had to bite the inside of his cheek, and Luis choked back his own laugh. Ramos with his dopey smile decked out in cliché fetish gear and _an eyepatch_ – okay, maybe Geri deserved it.

 

Geri deserved it, not him.

 

It was bad enough with Geri tweeting out shit about Ramos, (the club tried fining him, he just laughed paid the fee and kept tweeting), but now Lio was once again dragged back into their ‘petty’ contest. He shook his head.

 

“We’ll get him back,” Neymar swore. “I’ll nutmeg Geri at every practice, and Ramos at every _El Clásico_.”

 

“You already do that to Geri at practice.”

 

Neymar shrugged. “Okay, then I’ll nutmeg _and_ rainbow flick him,” he conspired.

 

They all laughed at that.

 

“That’ll be fun,” Luis said.

 

“Yeah,” Leo agreed. “Until Geri sits on you, or throws you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.”

 

Neymar rolled his eyes. “Well, he has to learn there are consequences for his actions.”

 

Leo bit his lip, because honestly that was a lesson both Geri and Neymar needed to learn in varying degrees. Then something hit him. He pulled out his phone and his hands shook a little with anticipation.

 

“What’s wrong?” Luis asked.

 

“I need to see–did he respond to the post?”

 

“I think so,” Neymar said. He pulled out his phone, no doubt to check too.

 

Luis scoffed. “Of course he would, it’s Geri.” He leaned in too to get a glimpse as Piqué’s twitter page loaded.

 

Geri only re-tweeted the post attached with two lines of surprised emoji faces.

 

Lio let out a sigh of relief. At least Geri wasn’t planning on making his entire senior career hell. He fingers flashed over his phone as he dialed Geri.

 

“Geri promise me you won’t do anything,” he said as soon as Piqué answered.

 

“I didn’t do anything this time, it was Sergio!”

 

“You know what I mean. Don’t respond,” he demanded. “Promise me Geri…please.”

 

Geri sighed. “Okay, okay I get it. I wasn’t planning on doing anything…right away,” he amended. He could probably feel Lio’s disbelief through the phone. “Shit, I’m sorry Lio. Really.”

 

Leo sighed. “I know…it’s okay.”

 

“So, are you ready to come back and give papa bear a kiss?”

 

Leo kissed his teeth and hung up the phone. But he couldn’t fight the smile that blossomed. Geri was incorrigible, but he was also a good friend – ninety percent of the time.

 

He looked at Neymar intensely. “Nutmeg and rainbow flick every practice, okay?”

 

Neymar nodded happily.

 

 

**88888888**

 

 

The next day Sergio was called into the longest disciplinary meeting he’s had since the ‘the slap’ as everyone had dubbed it around the club. And of course it was for his post to Piqué. It was long but pretty standard; he simply promised the board he wouldn’t incite any further incidents with Piqué, but otherwise he was left alone.

 

That was until Iker caught up to him.

 

“Why would you post this?” Iker demanded shoving his phone into Sergio’s face. “What did we talk about last night? Was it not this exact thing?”

 

He loved Iker, but sometimes his concern too often bordered on henpecking. Xavi wasn’t stopping Geri, so Sergio couldn’t understand why Iker couldn’t let him have one ‘clapback’ without having a nervous breakdown.

 

Iker snapped his fingers at him. “Hey! Sergio, are you even listening to me?”

 

Sergio reflexively leaned back, and frowned.  He hated when Iker did that. “Yes, I was,” Sergio started. “I mean I have been listening to you for the past two weeks from the very beginning. Remember? When you told me to let you handle Lio, and I did. But Geri? Nothing you told me has gotten that dumb giant to shut up for more than five minutes. But now… look,” he showed Iker Geri’s last post, sent at 10:35AM. “ _I_ did that.”

 

“What?” Iker questioned scanning the screen.

 

“There’s nothing! He hasn’t posted anything in the last twenty-four hours!” He knew he probably sounded a little childish. But it was true, weeks of torture and a single post was all it took to take Piqué out. “That’s huge! It-it’s a big deal!”

 

Iker eyed him for a moment. “Nene,” he said calmly, “I know this has been hard on you but you _and_ Geri need to stop. Think about the team, the fans, we don’t need this kind of attention. And honestly neither does Messi. I’m all for making life hard for him, but only on the pitch. C’mon the guy’s wound so tight it’s probably taking years off his life. And I can’t keep cleaning up your messes,” he said tentatively. “Apologizing for every mistake…”

 

“I don’t ask you to,” Sergio bristled. He _never_ asked Iker to apologize on his behalf for anything.

 

He scoffed. “That’s right you don’t ask, and you don’t apologize either. And if _you_ don’t who will?”

 

“I tried last time! And you said no!” shouted in frustration. He knew he was reckless, aggressive, hot-headed, and wasn’t scared to get in someone’s face or trash talk. Iker usually needed to reel him in and apologize for his behaviour like he was an errant child. But when he was wrong – like _really wrong_ – he had no problem admitting it. And honestly, everything that happened between him and Messi that day on the pitch felt _really wrong_. So he tried to make it right.

 

And the one time he tried to show ‘maturity’ Iker shot him down.

 

“Come on, Sergio. Think! Lio doesn’t want to see you after something like that. He didn’t even want to see me, or Xavi for that matter. It was for the best.”

 

Iker sighed, running a hand through his short hair before leveling his signature ‘ _captain stare_ ’ at him. “Can you do just one thing for me, Nene?” started again, interrupting his thoughts. He reached in to Sergio’s pocket and pulled out his phone and handed it to him. “Please delete the post.”

 

“What?” he asked. Sergio frowned looking down at the black screen. “Why does it matter it’s all over the internet by now anyway.”

 

“That’s not the point. I _know_ you. I know you Sergio,” Iker compounded as he rested his hand on his shoulder. “And I know you don’t feel good about this. Believe me it _will_ eat away at you until you delete that post.”

 

Sergio clutched his phone.

 

“You know I’m not wrong.”

 

Sergio unlocked his phone pulled up his Instagram account. It only took a few seconds to delete the post. But damn it all, he felt better.

 

He really hated it when Iker was right.

 

“Better?” Iker asked, but he probably already knew the answer.

 

Still Sergio indulged him with a nod. “Do you always have to be right,” he muttered.

 

Iker tilted his head in thought and smiled coyly. “I’m not…but when it comes to you the odds are stacked in my favor.” He patted Sergio’s shoulder before turning to leave him alone in the empty hall once more.

 

It was for the best because Sergio was thinking again.

 

Because now he realized his real problem had nothing to do with Geri’s bullying and more to do with his own guilt. Because now Sergio knew the only way be rid of it was to apologize to Lio, somehow, some way _in person_.

 

 

 

 

TBC


	2. Part Two: The Apology

 

 

**Part Two: The Apology  
**

 

 

Lio was lounging on the comfiest part of his sofa and channel surfing when his parents called. His mom grilled him with questions until she was satisfied he was ‘okay’, and his dad wasted no time suggesting ways he should navigate the media to play down the ridiculous stories pouring out. Lio let him speak freely, taking in his suggestions, as he tried to find something decent to watch.

 

That is until he realized his dad believed the worst of the gossip that was circulating in the tabloids: that he was caught in some love triangle with the two defenders. He couldn’t blame him, not with the amount of fuel Geri and Ramos provided the media. All his dad had to do was add the fact that Lio always tended to extremely private – to point of lying by omission – and then it all would seem plausible.

 

It didn’t mean that Lio enjoyed spending the next hour convincing the man it wasn’t true.

 

He was thankful though that an awkward conversation was the worst of the fallout for him. Everyone at the club still hazed Geri during practice, (he still wasn’t allowed to ‘touch’ Lio), but other than that it was ‘business as usual’. It was for the best since the team still had several games on the roster before mid-season break and Lucho wouldn’t accept _‘twitter beef’_ as an excuse for them not showing up on the pitch.

 

And though Lio wasn’t looking for another ‘apology’, he didn’t know how to feel when nothing came through the lines from Xavi, or even Casillas. The only speckle of remorse for the act was that Ramos deleted the post; but then Geri was forced by their club to do the same thing. So it was a meager offering, at best.

 

And when his captain did address it, as the first half of the season came to a close, it was a simple: “ _Don’t worry about it, just get ready for the Ballon d’Or.”_

 

And that's what Lio did.

 

His brother, Rodrigo, handled his management team, and Lio left it in his capable hands to make sure his time in Zurich went as smoothly as possible. Rodrigo never mentioned it but he knew the man went through great pains, calling in every favor, and pulling as many strings as possible to ensure Piqué , Ramos and Lio didn’t end up in a conference together.

 

Their tactics worked throughout the day. They smoothly navigated the plethora of interviews Lio had to attend. He only caught rare glimpses of Ramos during the interim shuffle between press rooms. The man seemed wrapped up in his own interview haze, but every time they crossed paths Ramos’ eyes would find him.

 

Then Rodrigo would tap his shoulder and shuttle him off to the next the set of journalists. And Lio didn’t have time to interpret what any of it could mean.

 

Their strategy stopped working during the actual ceremonies.

 

There was nothing Lio or his management could do about him sharing a stage with the Ramos when they both won an award for _FIFPro World XI_.

 

_But it’s fine,_ he thought.

 

Because even with Ramos right behind him, because he was surrounded by his teammates. Geri and Dani were behind him too on the raised platform, and Xavi and Andres were on either side. The entire stage was filled with Real Madrid and Barcelona players, the only outlier being Radamel Falaco.

 

Lio smiled along with the others as they lined up for the press shots. He didn’t want to linger on stage but they were told stay while the president of _FIFPro_ came out to remark on the awards and players.

 

Lio tried to stay focused but he could hear Marcelo and Ramos speaking softly, softly enough that he couldn't catch the words. It definitely sounded like an argument. His suspicions were confirmed a moment later when he heard a quiet _“Fuck it”_.

 

“ _Psst_!”

 

Now Lio was ninety-nine percent sure that was Ramos’ voice and Lio _really_ hoped it wasn’t directed at him. Modric wasn’t too far away from him so…

 

“ _Psst...Messi!_ ”

 

Lio did his best to keep his face neutral, though internally he was screaming in horror. Unlike Ramos he was hyperaware multitude of cameras. He knew they were rolling even if the screen didn’t show them at the moment – and he really doesn’t want to answer.

 

“ _…Lio_?” Ramos tried again, his voice going hoarser and faint at the end. The broken sound wasn’t something he’s ever associate with man if he didn’t hear it himself.

 

Lio sighed heavily. Lio was sure if he stayed silent the man would eventually give up, but it felt cruel. Lio may not be interested in what he had to say, but he’d never been cruel to anyone, and he wasn’t going to start with Ramos.

 

He hid his mouth under the guise of rubbing his nose as he went to respond, only for Geri to beat him to the punch.

 

“Sha~ddup,” he hissed.

 

“ _You_ , shut up, asshole” Ramos muttered back at Piqué unperturbed. “I'm not talking you, I'm talking to Lio.”

 

“You don’t get to call Lio, ‘ _Lio_ ’,” said Geri.

 

Xavi coughed conspicuously to draw their attention. “Hey idiots, there are cameras everywhere,” he said with his head tilted down to hide his lips. “Sergio can’t you speak to Lio later.”

 

“No I can’t,” he muttered angrily. “Every time I try to, some _asshole_ is always stopping me, why’s that,” he asked angrily.

 

Lio ducked his head, he knew why Ramos couldn’t get close to him today, but before then…well he didn’t know about that.

 

“Look Lio I swear it will be quick – I just want one minute,” he said desperately.

 

Lio couldn’t think of a good enough reason to refuse him. And now he was interested in what he had to say.

 

He did his best to mask his mouth. “Okay, after the ceremony,” he promised. “I’ll listen to you.”

 

“Thanks-”

 

Geri scoffed. “Don't feel the need to _coddle_ this idiot. We won’t think any less of you if you told him fuck off.”

 

“Why don’t _you_ fuck off, Geri?” Ramos said in a normal speaking voice.

 

_Okay that sounded loud_ , Lio thought.

 

His eyes snapped to the screens. They had smiles plastered on their face, but Ramos was more red-faced and both he and Piqué looked too tense for their smiles to be believable. Thankfully the cameraman panned away a second later when the audience clapped and the main presenter took over the ceremony again.

 

“Why don’t you make me Sergio,” Geri said just as loudly.

 

“Do I have to separate you two,” Xavi asked sternly.

 

“ _What_ is going on down there?” asked Iker. He had Dani and Geri separating him from Sergio, but now they were so loud no one could ignore them.

 

“If you two are going to fight to over Messi warn me so I can get my ten-thousand dollar suit out the way,” Cristiano chimed in.

 

“Get out the way Cris,” they both said.

 

The man followed their advice and dragged Marcelo with him several feet away. Geri and Piqué duked it out behind Lio shoving at each other with increasing strength, like two ten-year-olds on a playground. It wasn’t subtle enough to escape both the audience and cameramen’s attention. And the questioning murmurs grew, as Xavi and Casillas tried to stop them.

 

“Let's give another round applause for _FIFPro's World XI_ winn-Oh my!”

 

The high-gloss flooring ended up being the winner in the fight, getting the better of the two of them when Piqué slipped and dragged Ramos with him.

 

Lio smiled as he watched it all on the big screen.

 

**88888888**

Sergio waited in the large lobby just outside the lounge for Lio. There were still some players lingering about, but most had made their way inside for the formal reception. Most of his management team were long gone after they fixed his hair and straightened his clothes. Only his PR rep, Gema, lingered to beat in final pointers for ‘talking to Messi’.

 

“If listen to my advice, we could some good press out of this,” she said writing furiously in her agenda.

 

Sergio scowled, it sounded seedy put that way. “I’m not doing it for the press.”

 

“I know, but it doesn’t hurt to have some good buzz – breaking the record for red cards doesn’t count.” She poked him with the blunt end of her pen for emphasis.

 

“You knew the hazards of the job when you took me on,” he said.

 

Sergio smoothed his shirt down again. He knew there was nothing wrong with it but he felt the need to do something or he’d go crazy just waiting to speak with Lio.

 

“Sergio Ramos?” a voice asked.

 

A young man who looked too spritely for this time of night, smiled expectantly at them.

 

“Yes, this is Sergio Ramos” Gema answered for him. He rolled his eyes, but let her do her job.

 

“Elias, I work with Lionel Messi,” he smiled and shook both their hands. “If Mister Ramos is ready I can take him to back.”

 

Gema looked at him. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

 

“Yeah, go take advantage of the free bar,” he said. “I’ll find you after, okay.”

 

She sighed. “Okay,” she kissed his cheek. “Good luck.”

 

“Thanks,” he straightened his suit one more time and turned to Elias. “I’m ready.”

 

The man led Sergio on a short walk from the lobby to one of the smaller conference rooms behind the main hall. Inside Lio was speaking to a journalist, she sat to the right of him, and had her recorder resting on a small low table between them. There were two more staffers on the other side of the room speaking quietly among themselves.

 

“It’s his last one, he’ll be done soon,” the man said as he and Sergio waited by the door.

 

As soon as the words left his mouth, the woman stood up. Lio followed suit and they shook hands briefly before she turned and made to leave. She stopped when she saw Sergio waiting. Sergio could see the questions brewing in her head as she looked between the two of them.

 

But Lio’s guy was already on her and helping her along with her exit.

 

Sergio only moved after the door closed behind him, and when he finally got a good look at Lio he looked tired, but still in good spirits.

 

“Sergio,” he said in greeting and gestured for him to take the now empty seat.

 

Sergio sat down in the leather club chair, sensing Lio track his every move. It seemed strangely reminiscent of a mafia film: here they were two dons trying to resolve some turf war. It didn’t help dispel the ambiance that now seated, Sergio couldn’t figure out what to say. They ended up staring at each other as the silence extended.

 

He knew he should start and say something – he literally fought Piqué for the opportunity – but now that he had Lio in front of him he didn’t know how to start.  

 

_I should’ve put it on index cards_ , he thought as the words refused to coalesce in his head. He tried to start several times, but all he made were aborted sounds.

 

Lio finally had mercy on him, (probably tired of the whale sounds he was making), and spoke first. “I was surprised you wanted to see me, I didn’t think there was anything you wanted to say.” His voice didn't carry any bite, but it did enough to spark Sergio’s brain into working again.

 

“That’s not true,” he said quickly. “There’s so much that I wanted to say and should have said weeks ago. And tonight was kind of a last ditch effort. But if you said so, I would’ve fucked off.”

 

Lio quirked a brow, he didn’t look like he believed him. “And now?” he challenged.

 

“I will _still_ fuck off.” He said pointing to the door behind him. He made to stand but Lio stopped him with a hand on his arm. It drew the attention of Lio’s people, one of them was about to come over, but Lio shooed the man away.

 

Lio huffed out a laugh. “I believe you.”

 

“But you know… I really want you to hear me out.” He rested his hand on Lio’s before the man could pull it back.

 

Lio’s eyes were focused intently on where their hands touched, and though it twitched a little he didn’t pull he didn’t pull his hand away. When he looked back up they were still focused but, unguarded. “Okay, I’m listening.”

 

“First I wanted to say sorry. I've wanted to sorry for a long time,” he started. “From the first time on the pitch when I slapped you on the...” he trailed off. He didn’t want to embarrass him, but he had to mention it partially.

 

Lio looked down biting his lip. “Yes, I know. I remember,” Lio said as his face reddened. He pulled his hand from Sergio’s grasp, using it instead to brush back his hair.

 

“I wasn't thinking, I was--look I don't want to make any excuses I just need you to know that I'm sorry for that and then dragging you into again with that stupid post.”

 

He sighed in frustration, shaking his head. He could understand Iker's pain when he had to deal with him, Sergio couldn’t understand his own habit of going from sensible to idiotic in less than a second.

 

“I shouldn't have posted that shit online – using you to get back at Piqué ,” he shook his head. “I should’ve just used a pic of him drunk and bare assed.”

 

Lio chuckled softly at that.

 

“I don't expect you to forgive me, but I just want you to know that I am sorry – for everything.” He breathed out. It was over, he said his peace, and Lio was free to do with it what he wanted.

 

Lio touched his hand again lightly. It was a hesitant touch as he watched Sergio intensely, his dark eyes boring into his own. It was eerily similar to what Iker did when he was trying to determine the veracity of Sergio’s words. And when Lio smiled, Sergio felt the weight he’d carried for weeks, dissipate.

 

“It’s okay, I accept your apology.”

 

Sergio stared wide-eyed. “Really? Don’t feel like you have to you… _coddle_ me or anything.”

 

Lio rolled his eyes remembering the words Geri said during the ceremonies. He shook his head. “It’s my choice, and I forgive you.”

 

Ramos smiled widely. He jumped up and used his hold on Lio’s hands to drag in into a hug. Lio didn’t protest as Sergio encapsulated him in his larger frame. No, his arms went instinctively around his waist, and Sergio wrapped his own around the smaller man’s shoulders.

 

“I promise to keep our physical contact to tackles,” he said, his breath ruffled the errant strands of brown hair.

 

Lio pulled back enough to narrow his eyes at him. “Clean tackles, of course,” Leo said seriously. “My ass was so sore – I couldn’t train for days.”

 

Sergio pulled back completely, horrified. “Really?” he asked looking down at his hands, were that powerful? And was he that reckless to…

 

Lio’s laughter pulled him out of his self-loathing spiral.

 

Sergio stared at him confused. “Were you lying?”

 

He nodded. “I’m sorry, I had too,” he said as he tried to muffle his laughter in Sergio’s chest. “I’m down 2-0. I gotta get back in the game.”

 

Sergio watered down the urge to throttle him, by jostling him side to side in his hold. But it just made more laughter spill out of him.

 

“Fuck man, my heart seriously fell,” muttered. “I mean you were okay – after I mean?”

 

“Yeah,” he said softly as his laughter petered out.

 

“I’m really sorry–”

 

He squeezed him tighter to get him stop. “I _know_.”

 

Sergio didn’t say anything more. Just held Lio as a soothing calm fell over them. Sergio didn’t know what compelled him but he smoothed back the brown fringe of hair and then raked his hands through his hair and when Lio looked up at him, he felt the urge to lean down…

 

“Ahem!”

 

Sergio sprung back, and nearly fell over his chair for his trouble. Lio looked a dazed from the sudden movement.

 

It was one of the men who were in the room when he came in. Sergio assumed it was another staffer, but he this close he looked eerily like Lio.

 

The man looked between him and Lio with a frown.  “If you two are done? …Lio I have some promo shots I need you to sign, before we leave.” He put a thick stack of photos in his Lio’s hands and then placed a sharpie on top.

 

Lio made a face. “Really? _Now_?”

 

“Yes, now.” He levelled a look at Lio, when the man’s frown deepened. “It’s _repayment_ Lio,” he emphasized. He looked at Ramos and pointedly back at Lio. “Kind of a waste,” the man said and then walked back to where the other members of the staff was gathered.

 

Lio reddened. “I’m sorry…” he said once the man was out of earshot. “He’s my brother and I made him work, uh, overtime for the ceremony.”

 

He waved it off. “It’s fine.” He didn’t expect to get the welcome wagon from the staff, let alone the family of a guy he used to see purely as his rival.

 

Lio put the stack of photos and marker on the center table, and it was a pretty thick stack. He’d probably be there all night signing them. As if he was thinking the same thing as Sergio, he ran a hand through his fringe and sighed heavily.

 

“I…I should go,” he said. He didn’t want to, but he had no reason to linger. He’d done what he set out to do, the least he could do was leave the man in peace.

 

Lio opened his mouth to say something, but in the end he nodded. “Okay, thanks again…for seeing me.”

 

“Yeah…” he said ready to back away and leave…but he really didn’t want _this_ , their interaction to end here and be relegated to El Clasico’s, and maybe UEFA and international matches… so he wasn’t going to let it.

 

He pulled the first photo on the stack, flipped it over to the white and used the sharpie to scrawl his number on the back.

 

“What are you doing?” Lio asked bemused.

 

“Taking advantage of our new found chemistry,” he said simply. Now that he had Lio in his grasp, he wasn’t going to let the man wriggle away so easily. “Here.”

 

He handed the photo to Lio. “You can call or text me to talk whenever… and I also have so many embarrassing photos of Piqué  - it's unreal. It might not work to blackmail him, but it's something to laugh at, you know.”

 

Lio took it, a knowing smile played on his lips. “Of course,” he said. “But just in case…” he trailed off.

 

He took another photo from the stack and scrawled his number on the back of it too, and handed it off to Sergio.

 

“Just in case I forget,” he said by way of explanation.

 

“Of course,” Sergio said.

 

 

 

 

The End

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Yay! We made it to the end! Thank you for sticking with the story and I hope you enjoyed it. ¡Vamos! SerLio!"
> 
> \- KIFFY
> 
> __〆(￣▽￣)／*.*
> 
>  
> 
> Blanket Disclaimer: this is a work of fanfiction and the charactertizations are fictious and in no way does the author claim accurate knowledge/portrayal of events, relationships, traits, etc. of the person(s) mentioned; they have merely fallen victim to the author's wild imagination. Free entertainment, no-money allowed.

**Author's Note:**

> "For some reason the chapter only partially uploaded (le sigh). This is the full chapter (I hope). Thanks for reading."
> 
> \- KIFFY 
> 
> __〆(￣ー￣ )
> 
>  
> 
> Blanket Disclaimer: this is a work of fanfiction and the charactertizations are fictious and in no way does the author claim accurate knowledge/portrayal of events, relationships, traits, etc. of the person(s) mentioned; they have merely fallen victim to the author's wild imagination. Free entertainment, no-money allowed.


End file.
